


The Angel of Death

by j520j



Series: Everybody Hurts Aziraphale [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Blood and Injury, Fights, Fluff, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Love Confessions, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-05
Updated: 2019-08-17
Packaged: 2020-08-10 00:42:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20126530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/j520j/pseuds/j520j
Summary: Crowley and Aziraphale are not the only angels who have their own insubordinate ideas about the Armageddon.





	1. Chapter 1

“Wrong boy.” Crowley muttered, drinking his whisky. “How stupid a demon could be to lost the track of a child? The antichrist child! Shit!”

The Armageddon was about to start. The child named the dog, so he and Aziraphale have less than a week to try to stop the End of the World. Their world. _This cannot end like this!_ the demon clenched his fists. _We need to do something! And fast! Before more thi…!_

His thoughts had an abrupt stop when Crowley felt a cold air around him. He looked at his right to check if the window was open. It wasn’t. So to his left, and his heart almost stopped.

“Long time no see you, Crowley.”

A very tall man, long dark hair, very muscular and dressed in dark leather clothes, was in the room. He walk to Crowley and extended his hand, in a friendly gesture.

“Uh… oh… err, yeah. Long time no see you too, Azrael!” the red haired man greeted him. “Last time was… when?”

“Dachau, 1933. I gave you a hand with the Nazi project, do you remember? By the way, what amazing work you did with the Second World War! A remarkable scheme, my brother.”

“Ah, yeah. Thanks.” the golden eyes, concealed by the dark glasses, sparked with fury. _Every time this bastard came to ‘help me’ he does a mess on Earth! And I take the credits for his shit. Well, win-win, I suppose, but not for the humans._

“And now, the Armageddon is upon us! The best moment to us to reunite again, right?”

_The worst!_ Crowley smiled and nodded.

The red haired demon never liked Azrael. Well, he never liked most of the others demons, but Azrael was a special case. He was not as the others Fallen: his fall was late, around four thousand years ago. He decided to not change his name, and keep his angelical name: Azrael, the Archangel of Death. A sinister grim reaper, responsible for the largest mass deaths on Earth.

He didn’t take part in Lucifer’s rebellion, in fact he destroy many of his brothers and sisters during the war. His name was feared for all as the only thing he cares about is killing. Demons, humans, animals, angels… everything. But, one day, his lust for death was too far and he fell. And Hell received him with open arms.

Except Crowley. He never liked that asshole, even in Heaven.

“It’s time for us to destroy the Heavens! I hope you are in shape for the war.”

“Ah, absolutely!” the demon got up. “You don’t need to worry, Azrael! We’ll kick some angel’s arses!”

“Good. And we must start with the Heaven’s agent on Earth, Aziraphale.”

_Wait, what…?!_

“Uh, wh-what does you mean?!”

“Everything must be perfect!” Azrael said, in a grave tone. “We can allow the angels to mess up everything! So, the first one to be destroyed is Aziraphale.”

“You can’t!”

The black haired demon looked surprised.

“Uh, I mean… not yet! We’re still in truce! Since the beginning! If we attack Aziraphale, we’ll start the war too soon!”

“Oh, don’t be such a bureaucrat, Crowley!” the demon laughed. “Nobody will care if the war starts a few days early! And a surprise attack is something that our hellish dukes will see with good eyes!”

“I don’t think… uh… I don’t think this is… prudent.”

“What’s wrong? Are you afraid of him?” Azrael smirked. “Yeah, I know he was a Cherub, with a flaming sword and everything, but you probably didn’t know this: he lost his sword!”

“Oh, really?!” Crowley tried to look surprised.

“Hehehe, yeah! What a stupid, isn’t he? I remember him back in Heaven, such a nitwit, incapable to do a proper work. Spending too much miracles in material objects and procrastinating all his job! Believe me, even Heaven will be happy to get rid of him.”

For a split of a second, Crowley almost had a fit.

“B-but…!”

“Enough!”

Azrael summoned his wings and even them were different: they had no feathers, no flesh, they were a pair of bony wings with stiff, dry skin. It would be impossible to fly with them if angels and demons really depended on the laws of physics to do this.

“If you are such a coward to face him head on then I’ll do this!” the dark haired demon smiled with ferocity. “It's been a long time since I ripped an angel's head off!”

Before Crowley could do anything, Azrael was gone. The demon flew by the window, don’t even bother to concealing himself from the mortals’ eyes. Such a show off.

“No, no, no, no! You fucking bastard!” the red haired demon shout, even knowing he couldn’t be heard. “Don’t you dare to lay a finger on my angel! Don’t you _dare_! Fucking wanker! I’ll kill you!!!”

And, immediately, he go straight to his safe in the wall and take the holy water that he kept for occasions like that.


	2. Chapter 2

It’s was 9 PM on Soho. The bookshop was closed. In his private reading room, Aziraphale was drinking chocolate and thinking how he and Crowley could stop the Armageddon.

_Maybe I could contact my human agents?_ he thought, flipping the pages of a random book. _But… without any clue? It’s like trying to find a needle in a haystack! We just know that the antichrist is a boy, eleven years old…_

A loud sound from the roof interrupted his thoughts. He looked up and noticed that dust was falling from the ceiling. _What in Heavens…?!_

Sounds of steps could be listened, someone was walking on the roof. Few seconds later a creepy figure appeared, upside down, in a window.

“Aziraphale.” the creature said, with an eerie amusement in his voice.

“Az-azrael?!” the angel knock down his chocolate. “Is… is t-that you?!”

“Idiot as always.” the fiend landed on the floor, his black boots making dark marks in the wood. “How have you been?”

Very unpleasant memories hit the angel’s mind before he could answer the question. Azrael was the Archangel of the Death. And he loved his job. The Deluge was his idea, as Sodom and Gomorrah destruction. Heaven was much more intolerant back those days and Azrael liked that way.

But the idea of divine mercy became increasingly popular and the archangel began to create many problems because of it. And then, he fell, and Aziraphale couldn’t been more happy.

“Uh… I’m fine, I guess.” the angel had problems concealing the fear in his voice. “And you, Azra… err, sorry! Did you still use your old name?”

“Yes, of course! After all, even when I was an angel my name brought fear to the humans. I like that.”

“Oh, certainly! And… what are you doing here?”

The demon rolled his eyes. He took something from his coat pocket, a hook. Aziraphale’s eyes widened in panic.

“No…!” he muttered. “No, you can’t…! We are… Heaven and Hell are in truce…!”

“Dumber than usual.” Azrael made his magic and a long chain appeared stuck on the hook. He started to make some quick movements with his weapon in the air. “The war will begin soon, what’s the problem with getting ahead just a little?”

Before the angel could think the hook went close to his face, cutting his skin lightly. The weapon hit the wall behind him, knocking over several books that were on the shelves. He jumped, knowing that was just a warning shot. Azrael never miss.

“C’mon, you fat stupid!” said the demon, disgruntled. “Make this last at least one full minute!”

“Oh, shit!” Aziraphale ducked before the hook hit him again. He ran as the weapon spun around, destroying furniture and books in the process. Torn pages from Bran Stoker's autographed first edition of Dracula flew in front of him when he shouted: “Stop that at once!”

An invisible force stopped Azrael’s right arm in the air. The demon made a face but just drops the chain and grabbed it with his left hand. The weapon whistled like a whip and hit the bookseller's right shoulder, digging into the flesh. Aziraphale screamed in pain and his miracle was undone, allowing his enemy to move both arms again.

“Bad, but not so bad!” the demon smiled ear to ear. “You can do better, right?”

“Uggggh… ah…!” the angel grabbed the chain to prevent Azrael from pulling it and tearing a piece off his flesh. “… t-t-this… y-your superiors w-will be… furious…!”

“Imbecile!” he pulled the chain, fortunately the hook was already loose from the angel's body. The metal links dyed red with his blood "I have no superiors! Neither in Heaven or Hell! I do what I want!”

The hook flew like a bat, bounced on the golden shield Aziraphale cast around himself. The weapon hit multiple times, causing the sphere to crack slowly.

“This is no fun!” the demon roared. “Take a weapon! You can summon a blade or a spear, don’t you?! You lost your flaming sword, but you can use another weapon! Even a gun! Do something!”

“A-azrael, please! I don’t w-want to fight!”

“You coward bitch!”

The shield broke and the weapon found Aziraphale’s flesh again. It hit him in the thigh, the barb behind his knee. The demon pulled the chain and dragged the angel by the leg, that was bleeding a lot. The angel tried to use his miracle to broke the chain, but that was not possible. The demon’s will was stronger than his.

Another miracle. A magic barrier prevent the bookseller to came any closer to Azrael, like the repulsion of equal poles. But still, he had no chance to do a counterattack.

“Do you plan to bleed until discorporation? I won't make things so easy for you!”

The demon shook his whip and he detached it from Aziraphale's leg, tearing fabric, skin and muscles. The angel screamed in pain, but couldn’t cry anymore, has Azrael was over him, covering his mouth with a vicious grip of his strong hand.

“Wanna be a punching bag? Fine by me!” the demon laughed. “But you bet I'll do it very slo…”

A burst of light struck Azrael's face, blinding the demon for few seconds. Cursing, he fell back and rubbed his eyes and when opened it again, Aziraphale was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry...


	3. Chapter 3

Crowley was driving at high speed in the Brook Street with ‘Don't Stop Me Now’ playing at the radio. He needed to get at Aziraphale’s store as fast as he could. His friend was in danger.

He made a drift in the shop’s corner and the Bentley almost hit two cars. The tires screamed and left a dark mark on the road. He entered the store, calling for his friend at the top of his lungs.

“Aziraphaaaaaale! Are you there?! Are you ok?!?”

No answer. However he could fell his residual presence. He was there a few minutes ago. No only Aziraphale, but another one too.

Crowley took the stairs in one breath, opened the door of the angel's flat, and slipped into something wet. When he looked at the ground, he realized that he had slid in a pool of blood.

A blood test was not necessary to the demon know whose blood was it.

Panic was running all over his skin. Crowley knew that blood, besides a bad sign, didn’t mean Aziraphale was dead. He could be ‘only’ discorporated, ‘only’ hurt. To take an angel’s life was necessary more than this. Maybe he was not dead.

_Maybe Azrael made him a prisoner?! _he thought, clenching his fists. _A prisoner_ _in Hell. Maybe the angel is being tortured… maybe, maybe he is…!_

“I knew it!”

The demon with the bony wings was on the ceiling. Crowley didn’t felt him, or noticed him when he entered the flat looking to the bloody floor. Azrael jump on him, but the red haired demon was faster, teleporting himself some meters away.

_Fuck!_

“I knew it!” the black haired demon kept talking. “Aziraphale is an idiot, but not so idiot! It’s obvious he would notice you after so many centuries! You’re a blatant liar! And a traitor! You are an angel’s friend! You came here to rescue him!”

_Fuckfuckfuckfuck!_

“Who you’re calling a traitor, you bloody maniac?!” Crowley roared. “You are the one breaking the truce too early! And… and… who told you he’s my friend?! He only thinks he is my friend!”

“What?!”

“Yeah! Aziraphale is my, uh, double agent! I mean, he doesn’t know that, but I subtly corrupted him, to keep him from falling, and to believe he was my friend! And… and then I could know a lot of things from Heaven unsuspicious! And you…! You attacked him and destroyed all my schemes!”

Azrael looked doubtful. The expression on his face indicated that he was almost believing that story. Almost.

“Well, you don’t need to worry with this anymore. After all, the war is about to begin.”

“Ugh! That’s not the point! Where is he?!”

“I don’t know. Unfortunately I couldn’t track his teleport ‘cause his celestial powers, but he must be licking his wounds, although I think it’s too late. I made a mess with him, you should have seen it! Probably he must have lost his body right now.”

_Fuuuuuuuuuck!_ Crowley was boiling inside. _If… if this happened, he’s still alive, but takes too much time to take a new body! I probably won’t… see him again before the Armageddon! Everything is lost…!_

The sound of chain made the demon look to Azrael in terror.

“Whatefuck you think you’re doing?!?”

“No witness.” the dark haired demon smiled. “You’re right, maybe I’m the traitor here, so is necessary to eliminate you so nobody will know about my fault! Nothing personal, just business. You understand, right?”

_The crazy fucker!_

The chain and hook flew at Crowley, but the red haired demon drew a plant mister from his coat. He was using waterproof gloves and squeezed the trigger, letting the liquid contents hit the weapon.

Hook and chain dissolved in a puddle of dark ooze.

“What?!” Azrael dropped the chain as if it were electrified. “You…! You crazy! This is holy water! How can you have such a thing…?!”

Crowley didn’t answer. He squeezed the trigger again and Azrael jumped, scared.

“Traitor!” he yelled.

“Look who is talking!”

“I’ll get you, bastard! You and your blonde boyfriend!”

In a poof, Azrael was gone. Crowley fall on his knees, letting the despair he was holding up came up. Tears falling from his golden eyes.

“Aziraphaaaaaaale!” he shouted. “Where are you?! Please… your body is still alive, right? Where are you? Oh, shiiiit! How I will find you?! How…?”

A remote memory came to the demon’s mind. 1822, a dark place, a big hoard, a house in Oxford. _Maybe?_

Ten minutes after, the Bentley was running fast at the M40 road with ‘Another One Bites the Dust’ playing at the radio.


	4. Chapter 4

Lots of old buildings in Oxford were rented or bought by universities. Others were historic sites, museums or stores. However there is one in particular protected from students and tourists. A big house in Neo-Baroque style, with mansard roof and a big garden – at the moment, overgrown with weeds and very tall grass.

That was Aziraphale’s secret house. After centuries collecting books it was pretty obvious his store in London wouldn’t be enough to store them all. And a bookstore with ancient papyrus, old wax blocks, and stones with cuneiform writing would seem strange and suspicious.

It was his particular sanctuary, not even Gabriel and the other angels knew about the place, only Crowley. This was how much the angel trusted his demon friend. The right place for an emergency teleport, a desperate attempt to escape from a very dangerous situation.

The demon opened the gates with a hand gesture. Shouted to the tall grass to them make way for him. He entered the house and could felt residual miracle energy. He began checking each of the rooms, most of them filled with literary works prior 6th century.

In the last room, the largest of them, he found who he was looking for.

Aziraphale was there, his back to the wall, sitting in a pool of his own blood, eyes closed, the head bended on a shoulder and his face pale as a ghost.

Crowley ran towards him, touched his injured body with careful. The blond man had blood all over his body and two horrible wounds in his right shoulder and left thigh. The big punctures indistinguishably were caused by a hook.

“Aziraphale! Zira! Hang on, angel!” he hold him on his arms. “Please!”

“C-cro... ey…?” the man opened his eyes slowly.

“Yes, it’s me! Don’t talk, ok? Don’t move! Let’s see if I can help you!”

The demon inspected the injuries and noticed they were not bleeding or infected. In fact, they looked almost healed. Angels were very good in healing miracles, but this wasn’t what worried Crowley the most.

What was really worrying him were other kind of injuries and, for his dismay, there were plenty of them in Aziraphale. The wounds were not only in his body, but in his very _soul_.

Demons’ hell power could kill angels and angels’ sacred power could kill demons. That is common sense. But that kind of injuries, so deep, so nasty, only Azrael was able to do such damage, whether in a demon or in an angel. The bookseller barely had the strength to stay conscious.

“You need to go back to Heavens!” Crowley said, holding the angel’s hands. “Only they could cure these--!”

“No!” Aziraphale interrupted him and coughed, blood dripped from his lips. “N-n-no…! They will k-know that… the truce was b-b-broken… the war will b-begin…!”

“That doesn’t matter right now! You need to be healed! You still can die - permanently die - if you don’t receive a proper treatment!”

“Please, dear… no…!” the tone in his voice was so pleading that was heartbreaking. “We need to… save the world… keep it safe! That’s not the reason why we are into this?”

Crowley opened his mouth to curse, but he just sighed. Save the world in that exactly instant means so little that the demon barely remembered this.

“Listen! The world doesn’t matter anymore! There are other places in the universe!” he held the angel’s face gently. “So, you go to Heavens, heal yourself, and then we run away! What about Alpha Centauri? Sounds good? We could go to Andromeda! There are so many possibilities!”

“I like Earth…” his voice was weak and his hands, lowering Crowley’s ones, were heavy. “And… if I go to Heavens, they won't let me go down here anymore. T-they… they will ask paperwork, they… unnngh! And I'm too weak to run away…”

“Aziraphale.” the demon’s voice was grave. “We need to do something! We can’t stay here because a war is coming! Now it’s inevitable! And, very soon, Azrael will come back to hunt us! And I cannot carry you with me around the universe! My wings are not strong enough for both of us!”

“Then… k-kill me.”

Crowley blinked a few times. _He’s asking me to…?!? _Then he began to hyperventilate and bit his lip so hard it drew blood.

“Kill… me…” the angel’s voice was unflustered. “The war is coming and I have no chance… I can’t fight. And I c-can’t run away. So… I'd rather you kill me… I want to die in your arms.” he closed his eyes and smiled. “A-and you m-must run away… to Alpha Centauri. Run far away. Please… be safe, dearest.”

A dense silence filled the room, so thick that was possible to cut the air with a knife. Aziraphale suddenly felt the place all around him warm. Because of Crowley. He was so furious that heat was emanating from his body. His golden eyes big and sparking.

_“How DARE you?!”_ his voice was low and angry. “How can you propose something like this to me?! To _me_ of all people!”

The angel didn’t understand. Maybe was the pain fogging his mind, but he couldn’t understand Crowley’s angry.

“But… it’s t-the best way… killing me also would eliminate suspicion about our friendship… and you would be safe—“

Aziraphale couldn't finish the sentence as his lips were covered by Crowley's ones. The kiss was deep, maybe a little too harsh. Crowley was like a thirsty man drinking water after much, much time. Six thousand years to be exact.

“Idiot!” the demon said, heavy breathing, theirs nose touching. “You’re such an idiot, angel! How this is possible? You’re so clever sometimes, but now…!” he kissed him again, rough. The taste of blood in both their mouths. “I’d rather die a thousand times before laying a finger on you! Before letting anyone lay a finger on you! I would suffer all the punishments of Hell for eternity in exchange for seeing you safe and sound!”

“Crowley! Uh…!” the angel was speechless. His blue eyes damp by tears, his face red with emotion.

They kissed again. Both feeling as if a huge weight were lifted off their shoulders. They always loved each other, but that was the first time they had expressed their feelings. And they didn't want to stop anymore. Two men kissing as if there was no tomorrow.

And maybe there won't be a tomorrow.

“Heeeey, can I join you guys? I brought chains!”

Azrael’s voice was like a knife in theirs skin. The ex-angel of death found them. In his hands, two hooks and chains. Crowley got up fast, he put on his protective glove and got the plant mister.

“Don’t come any closer!” he hissed to the dark haired demon.

“Oh, and if I do?”

“You’ll be transformed in a puddle of shit!”

“Not if I get you first!”

Azrael couldn’t destroy the plant mister only by his will alone. The holy water into it would prevent this. The demon opened his boned wings, evoking all his demoniac power. The hooks flew in the air, destroying everything in the way.

Crowley needed to be careful, after all the water could hurt him too. He jumped sideways, trying to avoid the chain attack, and then pulled the trigger as he approached Azrael. The cloud of water caught the demon's long hair, melting it as the hook hit the plant mister and destroyed it, splattering water everywhere.

“AAaaaaAAAAhhhHHHH!!!” Azrael cut off his hair before the effects of the holy water came up to his head.

“FUCK!!!” drops of holy water hit Crowley’s dark glasses. That was a close call, if they hit his eyes he would be blind forever.

“C-crowley…!” Aziraphale shouted, but his voice was barely audible.

“Nhhhg, don’t move, angel!” the red haired demon said. “I… I can take care of this!”

In the floor, the holy water was a puddle and the chain and hook was melting. But Azrael still had the other hook. He said with a grim smile:

“Now… it’s you and me, you fucker!”

_Shit!_


	5. Chapter 5

The British Library has a lot of ancient treasures of the literature, but one of its jewels is the Norman Codex, well known by contain the oldest copy of the epic poem Beowulf, written around 11th century.

But it’s not the older copy. There is one still older and it’s in a particular library in Oxford. The ancient manuscript, written before 8th century, has even signed by the mysterious author. That is the oldest copy of Beowulf.

Or rather, it was the oldest copy.

Azrael’s hook hit the ancient book and destroyed it. Not only Beowulf, but others relics of the literature were being crushed by the uncontrolled attacks. The owner of the books would probably been shock to see all his treasures been destroyed, but no. Aziraphale was much more concerned with his friend’s health.

“Wa-watch out!!!” the angel yelled, and Crowley almost was hit by a fatal blow in the head. 

“If you want to participate the fight, so came here and fight! “ Azrael taunted him, swing his chains all over.

“Leave him alone, you bastard!” Crowley ran towards him. “You’ll have to kill me first!”

“My pleasure!”

The hook hit the red haired demon in his abdomen, piercing his guts. It hurt like hell, but fortunately it wasn't fatal injury. Yet.

_I can’t lose!_ Crowley grabbed the hook and chain. _It’s not only my life in line, it’s Aziraphale’s too!_

He removed the barb from his flesh and tried to pull Azrael towards him. It wasn’t necessary, the demon jumped on him, kicking his face and making his sunglasses flew over the big room. That was enough to Crowley to tie him to his own chain.

“Ahhh, shit!” Azrael fell to the ground, his right leg wrapped in the chain.

“Eat this!” the demon shouted, blood dripping from his eyebrow.

He kicked Azrael a couple of times in the face and then tried to strangle him with the chain. For a moment it seemed that the former angel of death was subdued. Just for a moment. The black haired demon grabbed Crowley’s hands and started to burn them up. 

“F-f-fu-fuuuuuuck!” his vertical pupils expanded by pain. The burn had already reached the muscles and was beginning to advance over the bones. The skin crackled like a roasted suckling pig. The burned blood left a scent of iron in the air.

Crowley's hands lost their strength and Azrael took the opportunity to grab him by the neck. He couldn’t break free as his hands were thin and blackened.

“I won’t make this easy for you, bitch!” the black haired demon stroked his neck, the skin bruised by the chain. “I’ll tie you and force you to watch your dear angel being dismembered by me!”

“_NO!!!”_

Crowley’s legs wrapped around Azrael's neck like two angry snakes. Both demons trying to break the other’s neck.

_I can’t lose, I can’t lose, Icantloooose…! _the red haired demon was running out of air, if he lost consciousness before Azrael, all would be lost. He tried to use his last strengths to communicate telepathically with the angel. _Aziraphale! Are you hearing me? Run, please! Run while you can! Go to Heavens and save your life, for Someone’s sak--!_

In an instant, the telepathic communication was broken. An abrupt barrier of emotion formed between the two minds. Sadness, Despair, Angry… and Love.

It was only when he hit his back on the floor that Crowley realized he was no longer being strangled by Azrael. The black-haired demon was too busy fighting an angry angel. Aziraphale attacked him, his white wings spread and a serious expression on his bloodstained face.

“Hah, so you decided to fight for real?!” Azrael looked amused. “Finally!”

The demon hit him hard in the face, causing his body to twirl in the air. White feathers flying all over. But the angel fell on his feet, spat blood scornfully and attacked again.

“What?!” both Crowley and Azrael said.

Aziraphale clenched his fists and began to attack the black-haired demon without rest. Their punches were much heavier than expected, especially when they gained even more power from the boost of the wings. The former angel of death was having difficulties to defend himself.

“What the fuck?!” he screamed, wiping the blood from his lip after receiving a punch that almost dislocated his jaw. “You don't know how to fight!”

“I never said I didn't know!” the angel growled “Just said I didn't want to fight! But now you're making me---!”

A blast of fire escaped Azrael's mouth and narrowly missed the angel. The demon was no longer kidding. With a flick of his hand, he turned the flames into a long hooked chain. The weapon began to race across the room, burning white feathers in an attempt to reach the angel's body. Crowley panicked: that was Hellfire. A single blow would be enough to kill Aziraphale.

“Thanks for the fun!” the demon smiled, his teeth showing sharp fangs and his eyes red as blood. “But the time has come to finish you!”

The chain flew straight to the angel, but stopped midway when it hit something.

Crowley's chest.

The red haired demon smiled, then fell to the ground.

“Crowley!!!” Aziraphale held him on his arms.

“A-angel…!” he coughed up blood. “Run… please…!”

“No, stay there, you idiot!” Azrael said. “And die already!”

The demon attacked again, his hook seeking Aziraphale's head. But it stopped midair.

A protective dome of energy enveloped the angel and Crowley. Azrael looked surprised for a moment, but then began to laugh.

“You've tried it before and your protection didn't last long! Now you--!”

Suddenly, the bubble exploded in a powerful flash of light. And not only did it blind Azrael, but it also burned his skin and made the Hellfire go out.

“Aaaaaahhhh! What was that...?!”

A powerful stream of heavenly energy began to fill the entire environment. Looking at the angel, Crowley finally understand, after six thousand years, why Aziraphale was chosen to be the guardian of the East Gate.

The angel was a fright. His wings looked even brighter than before and energy radiated from his hands. His face showed a blank expression and for a moment Crowley thought the angel was possessed - and perhaps he was. Possessed by a higher power. He looked so grandly powerful that a flaming sword would make little difference at the moment.

“Wh-what t-the…?!” Azrael, visibly scared, began to step back. “You can’t…! You can’t be more powerful than I!”

“Vanity of vanities; all is vanity.” Aziraphale’s voice was calm but at the same time terrifying. “You fell a second time, Angel of Death. And this time you will not rise!”

In a millisecond, everything went white, as if the world had disappeared. Then there was a sound of thunder, mixed with an agonized scream.

And then everything went back to normal.

“Ah!” Crowley opened his eyes. He was lying on the floor and sat down with difficulty and began to look around. “Where am I? Uh, I'm still at Aziraphale's house ...? Oh!” he got up quickly “Zira! Where are you?!”

The demon didn’t have to search long, for a few feet from him was the angel, lying on the ground, with his clothes torn and his face pale. Beside him, in the floor was a big white spot that slowly began to fade. Azrael was nowhere to be found. Literally.

“Zira!” he held him on his arms. “Are you ok?”

“Crowley…” Aziraphale gripped the demon’s injured hands with all his remaining strength, which was not much. “I'm… exhausted...” and the angel passed out.


	6. Chapter 6

Sunlight streamed through the light-colored curtains, illuminating the pastel-colored room. An angel was lying, his fair hair turned golden by the light. He was covered in a blue blanket that resembled the color of the sky, his head lying on a comfortable feather pillow.

He shifted delicately and began to mumble, waking up from an uneasy dream. He opened his eyes with difficulty and took a few seconds to understand where he was.

"W-what... where ...?" he rubbed his face and looked around. "Am I... in my room in Soho?"

The bedroom door opened and a familiar thin, red-haired man appeared before him, carrying a tray with breakfast.

“Crowley!” the angel smiled and tried to sit up, but pain ran through his body. “Ouch!”

“Angel, you’re awake!” the demon set the tray on the dressing table and sat on the edge of the bed. “Don’t move! You're still not fully recovered, even after Baraquiel fixes you.”

“What… Baraquiel…?” the angel frowned, remembering the name of the Archangel of Health. “What Baraquiel was doing here?”

“Don’t you remember what happened?”

“Uh… I was… errr… I fought Azrael and… and…!”

“And you destroyed him.”

“Yes.” the angel lowered his head. “Oh, dear… I didn’t want to do that. I mean, Azrael was an obnoxious person, a murderer, but --!”

“He was an asshole!” Crowley said, holding the angel’s hands. The demon’s hands were wrapped in bandages and Aziraphale could still see some spots of burns on Crowley’s skin not yet fully healed. “And you made a great favor to both Hell and Heaven in get rid of him!”

The blond man nodded and then asked: “And what happened after this?”

“Well, apparently, your power was like a beacon of energy that attracted the attention of other angels.”

“Oh! N-no! That’s exactly what I didn’t want to---!”

“You saved us, angel! Your power saved us! By the way, if you always were so powerful, why don’t you kill Azrael before?”

“I didn’t want to fight! I didn’t want to destroy anyone! I just… just…!”

“You almost died!”

“A sacrifice I was willing to do for the Earth. And for you, dear boy.” he lowered his head again. “To destroy Azrael I needed to evoke my full power. But the problem was, if I do that, all the angels would be alerted. And the war would start. Even you would be catch in the crossfire! I couldn’t allow this.”

Crowley said nothing, he just bend his head a little and kissed the angel in the mouth. A soft kiss, but full of love.

“You silly, silly angel!” Crowley cupped his face. “Never risk your life like this again! Never! If you died, the first thing I would do would be to drink in a pub for days and then I would drink a whole bowl of holy water in the church!”

“Crowle--!”

“Because my life means nothing without you!” he kissed the angel again. “Nothing! You’re my world, Aziraphale. My universe. My soul. My everything.” and kissed him again. “For you to live I would happily see Earth being destroyed. And I wouldn't give half fuck!”

“Oh, Crowley.” the angel smiled. “Do you intend to kiss me with that dirty mouth of yours?”

“Yeah, many times!”

The two kissed once more, in each other's arms. The pain that Aziraphale felt in his body passed completely when Crowley began to caress him, at first gently and later his touches began to become more lewd.

“Hmmm, Crowley.” Aziraphale stopped him. “And what about the others angels? And the Armageddon? What happened?”

“Oh, yeah…” the demon seemed a little bothered, but smiled. “Uriel was the first to show up after you kill Azrael and pass out. It was a pain in the ass to convince her that it wasn't me who put you in that deplorable state, but eventually she believed and called Baraquiel. The archangel was the best with healing miracles, but said you’d still need to rest for some days. Then the 6th Duke of Hell, Mammon, appeared too and found out that Azrael had been destroyed by the power of an angel. He and Uriel had a discussion that seemed to involve certain personal raids of the past and... oh, you don't want to hear about the boring bureaucratic parts, will you?”

“B-but this mean they… they know!” the angel looked very worried. “They know everything!”

“Not _everything!_ Thanks to Azrael, and the fact that the dead tell no stories, I managed to convince them that it was the former angel of death who was responsible for all the mess! Heh, my six millennial silver tongue was worth something!” Crowley began to brag. “Even Hell was tired of his insubordinations and Heavens already knew of his erroneous behavior. They believed me and so the Armageddon was canceled.”

“What?! Canceled?! For real?”

“Yeah! Well, for a while, I guess. But I don’t think they’ll do anything for the next few decades. Lots of paperwork, you know?”

Hearing this, the angel threw himself into Crowley's arms. Tears of happiness streamed from his eyes, making his kisses salty. The demon didn't bother, in fact he was eager to taste the angel whole. To lick and bite his soft skin and left his mark on him. He wanted to let the angel – that angel so incredibly powerful and wonderful – command him in every way possible.

“Ouuuch…!” Aziraphale grunted as the demon touched him on a painful area.

“Uh, sorry! You still need to recover from the injuries.” Crowley would have to save his lust for a more appropriate opportunity. “Anyway, I made the breakfast! Hope you like.”

“Oh!” the angel looked at the tray with amusement. “Let’s see: Eggs, bacon, mushrooms, black tea… and is this Welsh sausage? That is a truly full breakfast, my dear! Did you do it yourself? You hate cooking!”

“Yeah, but you need someone to take care of you, Mr. Too-Powerfull-and-Soft-for-his-own-Good! And this boring job is up to me.”

“I’d hate to boring you, dearest!” Aziraphale said, smiling.

“Don’t worry! We’ll have plenty of time to have fun very soon!” Crowley said, kissing the angel with tender.


End file.
